Never Ever
by icor
Summary: Perhaps light and dark weren't so necessary after all. [Demyx, Axel and Roxas centric, preKH2.]


The World That Never Was wasn't a bad place to not-exist. Of course, it was hardly a good place either; yet still, no one ever complained. Perhaps it was interesting. Perhaps it was banal. One, the other, or both—either way, it simply _wasn't._

Roxas had almost complained once; quietly, of course, and out of the ear-shot of Xemnas, almost a half whisper to himself. If he'd had a heart he might have been scared by the way Xaldin's rough hands came down so quickly to cover his mouth. To trap the words that most probably marked the beginning of his betrayal; the ones they refused to listen to, because likes and dislikes were dangerously akin to feeling.

They could do all the feeling—all the loving, hating and wishing they wanted—just as soon as they had hearts. But for now, the Nobodies had to remain united in a puppet show of anesthetised emotions.

Number XIII learnt his lesson that day, and merely decided that petty things like wishing that his room was a pale shade of blue, wanting better lighting or being anxious to have something to fill those empty, empty corridors were just echoes of his past life.

Still, the burden of holding your Somebody's feelings with numb fingers turned out to be a heavy one. Roxas stormed out of the Castle That Never Was, not quite angry and almost sad, the weight pushing the path beneath his feet into a slippery slope.

It was Axel who fell next. Then again, Axel had probably been at the bottom of that slope for a long, long time, waiting for Roxas to come around. He knew to hide his pseudo-emotions beneath the surface, deep enough so that scratches wouldn't reach them. Then, that was; and it seemed like a long time ago.

"So, bard," Axel asked, grinning. "Looks like it's your turn."

Proof of Existence was unusually lively. Axel sat slumped against the back wall, blinking at the dice he had rolled—a two and a six—before looking up to Demyx who paced back and forth, back and forth, waiting for his turn.

They had come here for a reason, once upon a time. To glance at the headstones of the Organizations fallen members—numbers, not friends—and to contemplate whatever it was Nobodies contemplated. Whether they died—they were eternal, maybe. They had might have existence in this painted afterlife, if they were lucky.

Now it was just routine—Axel and Demyx would sit amongst the headstones, playing games to amuse men that could never become bored.

Or so they told themselves.

Demyx knelt down, scoped up Axel's two-and-six, and threw them for himself. A total of four. He scowled, stood back up, and crossed his arms. On any other day Axel would have known better than to ask, but he never could resist such a look on a Nobodies face.

"You look angry," he said, trying to replicate the look on Demyx's face. It was surprisingly difficult, and every time he exaggerated the frown number IX only scowled more.

"You bet I am! I hate to lose games." Demyx stomped one foot on the ground, and waved his sitar violently around for effect.

"Oh? Doesn't it make you _angry_? Does it make you want to_ hit_ something?"

The look remained on Demyx's face—the anger burning in his eyes as they narrowed, either at the dice or Axel—and his fists clenched, harder and harder, until... his eyes closed and he broke into bitter laughter.

It was Axel's turn to frown. Unclenching his fists Demyx slapped one hand against his chest, and very slowly his laughter turned from bitter to amused.

"No heart, Axel. You're just too easy to fool."

Demyx walked towards Axel, and Proof of Existence echoed his footsteps and let his laughter die. He was always like this, Axel had come to learn, acting so emotional that sometimes even Demyx must had become unsure of just what was the act.

Confused. His eyes always looked so confused when he spoke his sometimes blunt, sometimes poetic words, as if he was lost in a feeling he could only remember, trying to make it his, and always drowning in the process. Having no heart (as he always put it, illustriously pounding on the empty hollow where it should be) was an easy cover up for failure.

With each day that they didn't live out, Demyx's actions became more and more like his; plastic on the surface, and _real_ like Roxas deep down. Who knew, perhaps they would go into exile together.

"I'm not like you," Demyx continued; and Axel had become accustomed to their friendly/hateful sparing matches.

"Why, whatever do you mean?" Axel asked, that wicked smile returning as he climbed to his feet.

The answer hung in the air and neither Nobody had to say anything more; it could have been settled with another hour of quietly tossing a die against the stone floor—which is the very reason they continued. Repetition makes existence even duller and harder to grasp.

"You know, Axel, I never understood that about you. We Nobodies walk around, acting out the feelings that our Others _might _have felt, when we feel the need. When it's to our advantage. I hate fighting, so it's good for me—but you can fight. You're strong, but you don't understand it like we do!"

"—ah, so the Organization spends so long trying to capture hearts, and then we're _scared_ to think that we can feel anyway," Axel spoke, countering Demyx's lecture as he stepped forwards, arms waving to prove his point.

"You don't know when you're acting or not."

Taking a few quick steps back Demyx raised his hands protectively, batting off Axel's exaggerated gestures. Had it not been for the fact that it would only prove Demyx's point, his chakram probably would have been ablaze by now.

"I'm a Nobody, Demyx, a N-O-Body, and even if I don't exist, I sure as Hell know that I don't feel, either. Got it memorised?"

Usually it ended there. Usually, they would give up and return to their meaningless remembrance of the others amongst the headstones. However, today Axel still had questions and would not calm down quite yet. Would not let go of Demyx's collar as he held him flat against the wall.

"Why do you care so much?"

"Aww, Axel, do you even had to ask?" Demyx answered with a question, head low, his voice full of a sadness not thick enough to hide the amused beat of his words. "We're _friends_, aren't we?"

"Stop playing," Axel said bluntly, and immediately Demyx's expression became blank.

"Roxas." One word was all it took. "Something happened to him, didn't it? It's happening to you too, Axel—and it's his fault, isn't it?"

Axel sighed, letting go of Demyx. He wasn't the best Nobody to pick a fight with, but he did have a way with manipulating words.

"Soooo," Demyx pondered, rubbing his chin thoughtfully as he spoke. "It seems even if we don't have one, sometimes we still question our existence."

"Sounds about right..." Axel trailed off, turning from Demyx, mind replaying Roxas leave over and over again, questioning desperately, futilely why this was happening to him, why the keyblade was his; why he just couldn't have that damn pale blue room and speak his mind.

"He made me feel as if I had a heart," he continued, and Demyx listened quietly. "I think I might of liked him. Hell, if I had a heart, maybe I'd love him. But... I _felt_ as if I had a heart. And if I've never had a heart, how can I know that's what it feels like?"

"Right!" Demyx said cheerful, not quite befitting for the mood. "So it's all in your head. Memorise it Axel, memorise it. All-in-your-head, all-in-your-head!"

It was an effective mask Demyx put up, Axel decided. Anyone else would have taken his words for truth, but Axel recognised it all too well; the happy tone, the race to denial, for an explaination for what could be real feelings. He had heard it in Roxas's voice too, seen it reflected in his eyes.

It was contagious, and almost like living.

They picked up the dice, once each, and hands apart, and walked through winding corridors. Axel only wondered how long it would be until both of their hands were wrapped around both of the dice together, accidentally of course, but lingering all the same.

Hands held as the Nobodies began their descents into nothingness, further and further from a heart, but somehow realising that you might not need light or dark to feel, after all. Axel laughed, knowing that Demyx was right, after all—he had to learn that fleeting, unreachable emotions were just products of his mind, of the soul. And it was better for him to play his part out on this twisted stage, with a mask that was never happy or sad.

They would both end in darkness, if they didn't accept such things. And death, for those that never were, would be as hollow as life.

Axel turned to Demyx as they walked, side by side, but not together.

"You know, maybe someday you'll come to like someone too. But if you're_ really_ lucky, you'll come to hate someone."


End file.
